Seeking Asylum Read online

  “Don’t let them take me. Rachel, stay with me,” he cried, his body going rigid.

  Her heart thumped. Tears stung her eyes. The tense, controlled FBI agent was gone and in his place was a sick, paranoid young man. She searched his face, desperately seeking the real, rational man beneath the undercover persona. But he wasn’t there—not that she could find.

  He could be Caleb.

  The two weight lifters grabbed the end of the portable gurney, jerked it out of the ambulance and, with almost no effort, ripped the Velcro straps apart and transferred Eric to the hospital’s gurney.

  To her astonishment, Dr. Patel’s long face appeared at the door of the ambulance, smiling self-consciously.

  Not the reception she was expecting. He held out his hand to her. “Dr. Harper. We’re so glad to have you back, safe and sound.”

  She tried to return his smile, but she was too worried about Eric.

  “I trust your night in Walter Reed Hospital helped you recuperate from your ordeal?” he asked as he helped her down from the ambulance.

  Rachel tried to watch Eric, but the orderlies were wheeling him away. She saw his torso arch upward as he struggled against his restraints, and heard him call out to her.

  “Rachel! Don’t let them—”

  Dr. Metzger was walking alongside the gurney. He pressed on Eric’s chest and Eric collapsed back.

  “Dr. Harper?”

  She couldn’t pull her gaze away. “I should probably go with him. Help get him settled.”

  Patel shook his head. “It is truly unfortunate, but not unexpected that he would fight. Mr. Baldwyn is obviously much more unstable than we had previously realized.”

  “He’s just frightened. I’d like to be with him.”

  Patel touched her bandaged wrist. “Dr. Metzger is with him. He’s in excellent hands. What about you? Caleb injured you.”

  “Not on purpose.” She glanced past him as the automatic doors closed, separating her from Eric.

  Dr. Metzger walked up beside Patel. “Dr. Harper, I understand I have you to thank for getting our Mr. Baldwyn back to us.”

  His voice was pleasant, his face serene, but Rachel detected an undercurrent she couldn’t quite identify. She looked at the doctor she’d idolized since medical school, then back at Dr. Patel. Their benevolent gazes unnerved her.

  Taking a deep breath, she took a step backward. “I really need to check on Caleb. Thank you for your concern.”

  She edged around Dr. Patel, but he caught her arm. “I’m afraid your presence might upset Mr. Baldwyn. You should take a day or two off,” he said, “don’t you think?”

  She strained imperceptibly away from the chief medical director, acutely aware of the bulk of the miniature digital camera, the microcommunicators, and the other state of the art gadgets the FBI had given her. They weighed heavily in her pockets and she didn’t want Patel or anyone else to notice them.

  “No, I don’t. I’m fine, really. I can’t just sit in my apartment. I need to get back to work.”

  His beady eyes assessed her. “We can discuss that later. But first, if you don’t mind, I would like to talk with you—in my office.”

  “Are they taking Caleb back to his room?” She felt close to panic. She’d gone over with Eric what would happen once they arrived back at the Meadows. She’d warned him not to fight the orderlies. She’d explained that he’d be restrained until they’d verified that he wasn’t going to hurt himself or others.

  He’d listened carefully and agreed with her. But after seeing him, struggling against the restraints, helpless fear contorting his face, she was doubly concerned. Was he that good an actor? Or was he really panicked? She had to check on him.

  Dr. Patel ignored her question. Still holding on to her arm, he’d marched her toward the administrative wing. Dr. Metzger muttered something about making sure his patient was settled in and headed in the direction the orderlies had taken Eric.

  Rachel followed Dr. Patel reluctantly. Mitch Decker had warned her about the inevitable questions. The doctors would want to know anything Caleb had told her. Mitch had cautioned her to tell the truth as much as possible.

  You’ll feel more at ease, he’d promised.

  So far, he was wrong. She’d never felt less at ease in her life.

  GERHARDT METZGER stepped into Caleb Baldwyn’s room as Thomas, the tall, muscular male nurse, and an orderly wrested Caleb from the gurney to the bed. Caleb struggled halfheartedly.

  “You want restraints, Doctor?” Thomas asked.

  Metzger shook his head. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Caleb, do you know where you are?”

  Caleb’s face registered an odd, cautious look. “Yes,” he croaked.

  “Are you having trouble breathing?”

  Caleb’s gaze darted around the room. “Sometimes.” He arched his neck. “Stings.”

  Metzger nodded. “I know, Caleb. We’re going to take care of that right now. You trust me, don’t you? Remember, we talked about how if we worked together we could find a cure?”

  “I remember.”

  “You know you shouldn’t have run away, don’t you?”

  Caleb nodded and closed his eyes.

  “Who did you talk to, Caleb? Did you have to answer a lot of questions?”

  “Rachel. I talked to Rachel.” He strained against the orderly’s grip. “Where’s Rachel?”

  “She’s fine. Who else did you talk to?”

  “Government agents, but I didn’t tell them anything.” He glared at Metzger. “I should have. I should have told them what you did to Misty. I should have told them—”

  Metzger breathed a sigh of relief. “But you didn’t.”

  “They’d have put me in the loony bin.” He laughed. “You can’t believe crazy people.”

  Metzger nodded at Thomas. “Sedate him while the orderly is here to hold him.”

  Caleb’s eyes rolled wildly as the orderly pinned him to the bed and Thomas injected the sedative.

  Almost immediately Caleb took a sharp breath, then stopped struggling.

  “Humph, that was fast,” Thomas said. “He’s usually more resistant than that to the drug.”

  Metzger stepped over to the bed and looked down at the most promising test subject he’d ever had. Caleb should have been sicker. He should have been in acute respiratory distress, at the least. Metzger hooked his stethoscope into his ears and listened to Caleb’s breathing and heart rate. He seemed remarkably healthy, given the circumstances.

  “You can go,” he said to the orderly. “Thomas, stay for a moment, please.”

  He leaned over, and with thumb and forefinger, separated Caleb’s eyelids to look at his pupils. “There’s something wrong, Thomas. Your observation about Mr. Baldwyn’s reaction to the sedative was correct. Please keep an eye on him and report anything unusual to me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “It’s possible we may be forced to accelerate our time-line. Be prepared. If anything happens, we may have to react within a few minutes.”

  “What can happen?”

  Metzger scowled. “The FDA is questioning my latest new drug application. And now it’s possible either Caleb or Dr. Harper may have said something to the FBI.”

  “What about the other patients?”

  “Let’s start weaning them off the drug. I’ll leave them here if I have to, but Caleb Baldwyn will be going to Germany with us, no matter what.”

  RACHEL SAT IN A buttery-soft leather chair, waiting for Dr. Patel to finish a telephone call his secretary had insisted he take.

  He hung up the phone and turned to her, his mournful face made even more melancholy by his halfhearted smile. “I truly regret the trauma you must have experienced.”

  She nodded. “I’m just glad I was there to help Caleb.”

  “Ah, yes.” Patel leaned back in his chair, tenting his fingers. “How did you happen to be in the neurology ward so late at night, just in time to involve yourself in a patient incident?”

>   The question was innocent enough, but Patel’s tone bore a note similar to Dr. Metzger’s. An undercurrent of suspicion, as if he expected her to lie.

  She answered honestly. “I always park my car at the side entrance to the neurology wing. It’s near the hospital staff lockers, and the parking lot is well lighted there.”

  “Ah. And how did you find yourself in the sunroom?”

  Rachel shifted in her seat. It didn’t matter that she’d expected these questions. The piercing eyes shining out of that serene face made her nervous. Did he blame her for the shooting?

  “Have you talked to the night nurse, Grace Jones? She stopped me on my way out and asked me to check on Caleb. He was sleepwalking.”

  Patel’s dark slanted brows rose. “Mrs. Jones said that you asked her where Caleb was.”

  Rachel gaped at the doctor. “She said that?” Why would Gracie lie? She’d always been helpful and friendly. “No, sir. She’s wrong. She stopped me as I was leaving.”

  Dr. Patel picked up a pencil and toyed with it. “Now see, Dr. Harper, this is where things become confusing. Mrs. Jones states that Caleb had agreed to go back to bed when you came in. Something about seeing you triggered his agitation.”

  Indignation swirled through her. “That is not true.” She sat up. “Caleb was already awake and very agitated when I got there. Surely you know how sleepwalkers can be when they’re awakened. Gracie wanted to call Security, but I told her not to. I’d handle it. But she called them anyway. Caleb was almost ready to go back to bed when Darrell showed up.”

  Patel shrugged. “Mrs. Jones has worked here for eight years.”

  “And I’ve been here two months. What are you saying, sir?”

  “I just cannot imagine why one of the Meadows’s most loyal and trusted nurses would lie about something like that.”

  “Neither can I.”

  Dr. Metzger appeared at the door. “I’ve given Mr. Baldwyn a sedative and ordered him placed on hourly bed checks throughout the night.”

  His words almost stopped Rachel’s heart. She’d expected them to sedate him, at least the first day, but hearing Dr. Metzger confirm it sent terror shooting through her as she imagined Eric’s intense, vital body limp with drugs.

  “Hourly bed checks? You think he’s suicidal?”

  Metzger glanced at Patel, who leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk, and scrutinized her. “He did shoot someone, Dr. Harper. Is there a problem with your level of emotional involvement with Mr. Baldwyn?”

  Rachel felt as though the walls were closing in. Both doctors stared at her.

  “I just need to be sure he’s all right,” she blurted.

  “We have competent staff, Dr. Harper. Are you quite sure you are all right?”

  “He’s been through so much. He trusts me,” she mumbled. “We have a good relationship.”

  “He actually became quite disturbed when I mentioned your name.”

  Rachel frowned at the neurologist. “What did you say to him?”

  Metzger sent her a quelling glance, then raised a brow at Patel.

  The look that passed between the two physicians told Rachel she was facing a united front.

  Dr. Patel shook his head. “I’m afraid Dr. Metzger and I agree. Caleb needs constant observation right now, and we aren’t sure what seeing you might do to him. He will be arraigned in two weeks for the shooting of Darrell Freeman, and until that time, we are treating him as potentially violent.”

  “Please,” Rachel said desperately. “Let me be assigned to him. I can help him. I know I can.”

  Metzger glanced at Patel, then at Rachel. “Dr. Harper, we need to understand Caleb’s state of mind. Why he became violent. What his reasoning was for kidnapping you.” He scratched his bushy sideburns. “I’m certain that, as a psychiatrist, you observed and evaluated his behavior. I know you haven’t had time to make a report, but give me an assessment.”

  “Time to—” Rachel almost laughed. Her feet had barely touched the ground before they’d rushed her in here to grill her.

  Metzger watched her closely as he slid his fat, black fountain pen up and down in his lab coat pocket. There was a small ink stain on the bottom seam of the pocket.

  “An assessment,” she repeated. What did they want to hear? What would help Eric in his role as Caleb? “I don’t believe Caleb is violent. When Darrell rushed him, Caleb felt cornered. All he’d wanted to do was to get back to his room, and Darrell was between him and the door.”

  Metzger shifted in his chair and a look of irritation crossed his face. “No, no, Dr. Harper. We know what happened in the sunroom. We have Mrs. Jones’s account. I need to know his symptoms. Physical, neurological.”

  “But Gracie’s account was not—”

  “Please, Dr. Harper,” Dr. Patel interjected.

  Rachel swallowed the retort that struggled to escape her throat. She had to cooperate. If she were labeled difficult, it could hurt her chances of getting to Eric.

  “Caleb was highly agitated. He expressed genuine remorse for shooting Darrell, and I had the definite impression that he grabbed me and ran simply because he was afraid of what would happen to him.” She didn’t mention his determination to find his brother.

  “He knew exactly where he was going, so he wasn’t out of touch with reality. He directed me straight to his grandmother’s house.” She paused, considering her next words carefully. “I got the impression that it may have been his grandmother’s death that upset him. Wasn’t she the last of his family?” She held her breath.

  Patel’s dark eyes flashed as he glanced at Metzger then back at her. “Ah, Dr. Harper. Interesting assessment. His grandmother’s death as the inciting incident. What do you think, Gerhardt?”

  “His physical symptoms, please.” Metzger pulled off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief, seeming completely uninterested in the mention of Caleb’s family.

  Rachel shifted in her chair. What was Metzger fishing for? The respiratory distress? His paranoia? How far could she go without mentioning Eric?

  “I thought his physical symptoms were odd, considering his medications.”

  Metzger relaxed visibly as he pushed his glasses back onto his nose. “Odd?”

  She nodded, pretending to fuss with the bandages on her wrists. “He grew increasingly paranoid and he seemed to have difficulty breathing.”

  “Please explain.”

  “He exhibited symptoms of shock—pale, clammy skin, heightened respiration, sweating. A couple of times I thought he might stop breathing altogether.”

  Metzger leaned forward. “He never did?”

  She shook her head. “No, although he did struggle at times. I was worried that he might be having a severe allergic reaction.”

  “Indeed? How did you treat his symptoms?”

  Rachel shrugged. “I was bound most of the time. I encouraged him to lie down and to breathe slowly and deeply. Luckily, the FBI had EMTs on the scene.”

  “Luckily.” Metzger rose, sending a look toward Dr. Patel. “I will make arrangements to talk with you later, Dr. Harper. I have rounds.” He left the office.

  “Dr. Patel? May I see Caleb?”

  “Dr. Harper—Rachel.” Patel shook his head regretfully. “If it weren’t for Dr. Metzger’s vehement defense of you, you would be facing termination. This is the first incident of patient violence involving a psychiatrist at our facility. It is grounds for immediate dismissal. However—” he shrugged and plucked a tissue from a box on his desk to blot his upper lip “—Dr. Metzger stepped in on your behalf. He apparently believes that you are a good doctor. He thinks you have a certain fascination for Caleb Baldwyn right now—because he kidnapped you and because you spent so much time alone with him.”

  Rachel stood, straightening her back and lifting her chin. “I’m not fascinated with him. I am a physician. The moment Caleb Baldwyn took me hostage, I became responsible for him. I took care of him. I know him now, and I should be with him. I’m a familiar fac
e. He responds to me.”

  Patel’s eyes shuttered and his expression turned stony. “The issue is closed.”

  “Issue?” she broke in. Her relationship with Caleb was viewed as an issue. “So you’re telling me you don’t trust my judgment?”

  The chief medical director’s face reflected his irritation. “The next two weeks, while we wait for Mr. Baldwyn’s arraignment, will determine that.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “How extensively were you questioned by the FBI? You have hardly mentioned that aspect of your kidnapping.”

  Rachel spread her hands. “Not very. The Special Agent in Charge was Mitchell Decker, who worked with the local agent as well as the county sheriff. They asked me about the shooting and about Caleb’s illness.”

  “How much talking did Caleb do?”

  “Caleb hardly spoke. He was in severe distress.” Rachel’s guard went up immediately. She’d been briefed by Mitch and Eric about what questions to expect. So far they were right on target. “What he did say was largely nonsensical. You know, talking about evil doctors and conspiracies and experiments.” She smiled conspiratorially. “The usual paranoid delusions.”

  Patel nodded and Rachel saw a careful loosening of his tense facial muscles. She’d allayed his concerns. They would have been suspicious if she hadn’t mentioned Caleb’s accusations.

  She suppressed a relieved sigh.

  “Thank you, Dr. Harper. It sounds like you represented the Meadows in a favorable light. Until we can assess Mr. Baldwyn’s state of mind, and find out what the charges against him will be, we don’t feel it is in your best interests to be near him. You will be assigned elsewhere, for your own protection, of course.”

  Her relief changed to panic. “Elsewhere? W-where are you assigning me?”

  “The Women’s Dependency Center.”

  “Oh, no!”

  The women’s drug treatment facility was on the other side of the grounds from the acute neurological unit, near her apartment.